


A war: told in three acts

by Persephone1832



Series: PrUk Oneshots [8]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, WW2, historical fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 03:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19432738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephone1832/pseuds/Persephone1832
Summary: A war can change a lot, or it can change nothing, in the grand scheme of things.(Three pairings and how the Second World War affected their relationships)





	A war: told in three acts

**Author's Note:**

> Anouk is the name I use for Belgium and Lars is the name I use for the Netherlands.
> 
> If you see //\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\ it means a change in scenery or time has happened.

A war can change a lot, or it can change nothing, in the grand scheme of things.

A war leaves destruction in its wake, while clearing the way for new flowers to grow and bloom.

A war can change a lot, or nothing at all. That was a fact that the Nations should have gotten used to by now.

**1**. **The** **liberation** **of** **the** **Netherlands** ( **1945** )

Lars squinted at the light suddenly filling his cell. The smell of mould was replaced by rain and grass, something he never thought he’d smell again. There was someone at his side, lifting him up and carrying him out. Their voice was soothing and Lars stopped fighting the blackness at the edges of his vision.

//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\

Matthew felt Lars slump in his arms and his heart dropped. He could distantly hear his voice screaming for someone to help. His world narrowed down to the skeletal figure in his grasp. He looked so different than before , proud stance whipped away in the few years since their last encounter.

He felt two people gripping onto Lars and taking him away from Matthew, a third person wrestling his struggling form, shouting at him to calm down. Matthew was being illogical, he knew that, but this was Lars, a man he admired so much, a man he’d given some of his land to so his princess could be born Dutch, a man he might love.

He eventually wore himself out, relaxing in the persons arms. Soft lullabies were sung into his hair as the last of his energy seeped out of him. He recognised the songs and the voice, but it didn’t make sense.

“Prussia?” It was quiet, but the hand on his back stopped moving, showing that the other was listening.

“Yeah, Mattie?”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m here with Arthur.” That was all he offered, the hand resuming its path, signifying the end of the conversation.

“Can I see him?”

He felt Gilbert nod, and stood up on shaking legs. He was guided towards the tent, Gilbert stopping at the entrance to speak to a tired Belgium before they were ushered through.

Lars was still unconscious, wrapped in bandages and covered with a quilt. Arthur was at his side, wiping sweat from his forehead. He looked up when he heard them approach, stepping away and nodding at Gilbert.

“We’ll give you a minute.” Arthur patted Matthew on the shoulder before departing, Gilbert and Anouk in tow.

Matthew took a few quiet steps towards the bed and sat in the chair next to it. He hesitated before reaching out and grabbing Lars’ hand. He hung his head, trying to push the tears away.

“I was so worried about you when I first heard the news. I’m sorry it took five years to save you. I should’ve fought harder.” A few stray tears made their way down his face.

He felt Lars grip his hand, and looked up at the face of the man in the bed. His eyes were blinking slowly, adding to the dazed look in his blue eyes.

“I didn’t know angels wore glasses.” He murmured and Matthew choked out a laugh through his tears, unable to believe those words came out of Lars’ mouth.

Neither knew in that moment that this would be the cornerstone of their relationship, a relationship built off of trust and admiration. The start of their relationship was horrible and bloody, but it was theirs and they wouldn’t change it.

**2**. **VE** **Day** ( **1945** )

Feliks was in a rough state. The war had not been kind to anyone, but he seemed to have gotten the short end of the stick. He’d originally tried to help with the fighting, but as the war progressed his health took a massive spiral downwards to the point that he was unable to leave his house.

Staying at home wasn’t much better, though. Poland would have honestly rather fought in the war than be confined to his house, forced to deal with the looks of contempt from the other occupant.

Normally, he’d find comfort in Tolys’ presence, but with the scathing looks and sullen silences, he’d taken to avoiding him at all costs, a difficult feat in a small house.

Feliks had tried to explain the situation, tried to explain that he had protested the invasion and fought every member of his government to try and stop it, but Tolys didn’t want to hear it, because in the end, Poland had still invaded his capital.

Now, the war was over and Vilnius was Lithuanian again. Poland took the first chance he could to get out of the house, taking Arthur up on his offer of lunch to celebrate the victory and see how he was doing.

Arthur and Feliks got on well enough, and he appreciated the concern. Arthur understood the situation with Tolys and made sure to avoid the topic at all costs. Except, there was something happening that couldn’t be ignored.

“You’re looking much better than the last time I saw you. You’ve got colour in your cheeks!” Arthur smiled.

“I’m feeling much better. In all honesty, I thinks it’s being out of the house.” Feliks watched Arthur consider this while he chewed on the food in his mouth. He swallowed his mouthful and spoke again.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you about something Russia said during a recent allied meeting.”

Feliks felt dread pool in his stomach.

“Please tell me he isn’t planning another Polish invasion.”

“He isn’t,” Arthur seemed to think about the statement, “well, at least not yet. No, this was about his plans for a certain neighbour of yours.”

“He’s planning to regain control of Lithuania.” It was a statement, not a question. “He can’t do that, Tolys has only just gotten his capital back!”

Arthur put his hands up in surrender.

“I’m just telling you what I know. Russia is planning something, and that something is happening soon. He needs to do it quickly, while the world is in a stage of temporary peace and before the tension between him and Alfred grows too much.”

“God help us when that powder keg blows.” Feliks muttered, hearing Arthur make a sound of agreement.

Feliks knew he’d have to talk to Tolys eventually, and this seemed like a good opportunity.

In the end, Feliks never had a chance to warn him. They were separated by Russia for decades, both angry at how they left things. Sometimes, Feliks calls for Tolys during his nightmares, and he knows Tolys does the same. It isn’t until the collapse of the Soviet Union that they actually speak again, but the time apart has changed them and they’re basically unrecognisable to each other. They’re friends now, nothing more. Truthfully, neither want anything more, the person across from them too unfamiliar to inspire the trust the relationship needs.

**3**. **The** **Second** **World** **War** ( **1939** - **45** )

Gilbert despised the Nazi’s. He hated that he’d been dragged into a war he wanted no part of and forced to fight people he cared about. Ludwig had become a complete different person since that bastard became chancellor, and Gilbert didn’t want to stick around to see the horrific acts his brother would commit with him as the leader.

Gilbert had two options. He could stay and fight, and hurt his friends for a man he hates during a war that he doesn’t want to win, or he could run, a thought that has never crossed his mind before, and be labelled a traitor to himself, leaving his brother in the process.

Gilbert was ashamed to say he picked the latter.

In the dead of the night, with only a bag on his shoulders, Gilbert left his camp with nearly half of his platoon following. A message was sent to Arthur through the french resistance, and Gilbert could only hope it made it in time.

It was a long journey from Belgium to Calais, longer than it would normally take as he had to stick to back country roads and small villages to avoid running into Nazi soldiers on patrol.

Calais was a dangerous place to go if he wanted to remain undetected, but it also remained one of the last strongholds of the resistance in occupied France as it was the closest point of contact with England.

Gilbert was given the name of a café on the coast by a member of the resistance a few towns over. When he arrived he saw a familiar head of hair.

“You look like shit, Francis.”

Francis looked up, smiling at his friend, though it looks out of place on his thin, drawn face.

“I could say the same for you, mon ami.”

After a brief hug they sat back down at the table, where Francis gave him a time to be at the docks that night and told him that a boat would be waiting to take him to Dover.

“Not that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done, but you could get in serious trouble for helping me.”

Francis just smiled again.

“I owed Arthur a favour. He decided to cash it in now. He’s worried about you.”

Gilbert nodded and, after a second hug and a promise to take care of himself, left the café.

//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\

Dover had always been beautiful, and even with the busy crowds and troops waving goodbye to their families as they board the boats, it was still a sight to see, white cliffs sparkling in the summer sun.

It had been too long since Gilbert had been here, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that he missed it and the peaceful memories it brought with it. During the 18th and 19th century, Arthur and him spent a lot of time here in between all of the fighting.

This was where he realised that Arthur was the only one for him.

Pulling up at the docks, Gilbert noticed someone waiting on the pier, back turned to the sea, enjoying the sun on his face. Gilbert knew immediately who it was. He approached slowly and covered the other’s eyes with his hands, relishing in the startled noise Arthur made.

“Guess who.”

Arthur sighed, a noise filled with a fondness Gilbert wasn’t sure he’d ever heard from him, and Gilbert felt his eyes move under his fingers, signifying an eye roll at the other’s childish behaviour. He turned around in Gilbert’s arms and looked up slightly, eyes flicking across the dark circles under his eyes and more prominent cheekbones.

“I was worried about you.”

“So I’ve heard. I’m here now, safe and healthy.”

Arthur just hummed and finally pulled Gilbert into a hug, arms winding around his torso as he bent his neck to fit into the curve of his throat. Gilbert tightened his grip as well, soaking in the warmth of the man he loves. After what felt like centuries, they pulled away. Arthur straightened Gilbert’s collar and smiled at him.

“We have so much to discuss, but I think that can be put off until tomorrow. I’d rather have you to myself for the day.”

//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\

For the rest of the war, Gilbert and Arthur fought side by side. They were there at D-Day and Dunkirk. They fought in the streets of Paris for its liberation. Gilbert stood behind Arthur as he watched his colonies achieve greatness. He felt Arthur’s pride when Canada saved the Netherlands, and his sadness when he saw how badly London had been damaged.

When the Armistice was signed and war was officially over in Europe, Arthur grabbed Gilbert and held him tight, happiness overflowing down his cheeks.

Gilbert was not ashamed that his country lost, or that he was labelled a traitor by his own brother. Gilbert had stood up for what he believed, and he had done it with someone who loved him no matter what he was labelled. The war had changed a lot, but it had done nothing but strengthen his relationship with Arthur.

There was so much looming on the horizon, so much the future could hold, but they both knew it was time to take a step back and allow the younger nations to take the wheel.

They had each other, and now they got to watch the younger generation of nations prosper, hopefully learning from their mistakes.

After all, a war can change a lot, or it can change nothing, in the grand scheme of things.


End file.
